


Devil's Advocate

by dukecaboom420



Series: The Good in Me [1]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: 1920's, 1920's slang, Based On Buzzfeed Unsolved, Bobby Mackey's, Demons?, Gay, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Ricky Goldsworth x C.C. Tinsley, Ricky owns the casino, The Latin Quarter, and the town, and tinsleys ass, eventually, mafia, slow burn I guess????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 23:05:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dukecaboom420/pseuds/dukecaboom420
Summary: Ricky Goldsworth forces his way into power in the small town of Gauley Bridge, and eventually, the  county.While doing this, he gets on the bad side of private investigator, C.C. Tinsley, who makes it his goal to take down the infamous mobster. But this goal gets cast aside when its his responsability to solve the murders of many people in town.





	Devil's Advocate

“I don’t think you heard me.”

The early morning was cold and wet, giving an eerie tone to his words. The last of summer was being drowned out by downpours, as was routine for the weather this time of year. Everything was painted in a dull shade of gray, barely any light could escape the clouds onto the scene below. Those same clouds began to storm once more, with a deep rumble of thunder coming from the sky. 

“I want the best house in the neighborhood and I want it stocked with food.”

“Sir-“

“Furnished...And I want servants as well..” A pause to correct himself. “I want butlers, and you’re going to be one of them.”

“Sir you can’t- I’m not going to be a butler! I’m the mayor!”  
It was odd to see a man wise with age, let alone a man of authority, tremble while a much younger and shorter man demanded him to do all these things.   
The pure fear on his wrinkled face was hysterical to the outsider. Of course it was.  
“That’s not how this is going down.”  
“Oh shit”  
“Yeah...I’ll expect you at my house later, eight A.M., I’ll leave the keys under the doormat.”

“Yes, sir, Mister Goldsworth.”

That was the night the town went under a change, one that would shake all of its citizens to their very core.   
It was like an infection that was slowly gaining more and more power- a cancer. First it was just the Latin Quarter, a new casino, courtesy of Ricky, but that could be hidden away. All casinos have some dark background, but that didn’t need to affect the town. It was harmless, a cold that could be controlled with soup and a few days off work.   
But when the Mayor was thrown from his chair, that was the tipping point. This was no longer a cold- it was an inescapable plague that took the air from your lungs slow enough to be painful but not deadly. A cowardly disease that destroyed you bit by bit. 

This was a blow that hit the Private Investigator in a particularly bad place. The mayor was special to him, he was his brother after all. Any man that had the courage to mess with Oscar Tinsley was a foolish one, to say the least. This Mobster’s deeds became C.C. Tinsley’s main case. 

But priorities often get set aside for more pressing matters, like a murder. The call came into his office during the early night hours of a chilly weekday. The investigator put down his pen and sighed before clearing his throat and picking up the phone. After a brief conversation with the police chief, he drew on his overcoat and began heading to the Latin Quarter. 

The woman was a pretty one, to say the least. Well she would have been a lovely dame if the back of her skull wasn’t in pieces on the floor just below a staircase. Blood stained the flooring, her blonde hair dyed a deep crimson, as well as her revealing outfit made for a crowd pleaser. 

No one seemed to bat an eye at her death, the ritzy men and women continued to gamble and drink the night away. It was a disgusting scene that described all of their characters. All except one. A man talking to police with a glare and crossed arms, frustrated with every last bit of authority in the building. C.C. was given a desperate glance by the officer before they parted ways and sent the man into his direction. 

“You the detective?”  
His voice was expressive and calming in some odd way, striking as a surprise to Tinsley. He was always a bit anxious when it comes to investigations, but he would never let it show. At least not to the man who was well built enough to toss him into the bar like a rag doll. 

“Yeah, I assume you’re a witness?” He raised a brow. 

“I watched it happen, but no one pushed her. At least no one living, of course.”

“Are you insinuating this place is haunted?” The detective asked, a slight smirk across his face. Was this the mob boss that had the whole county in fear? A man who believed in campfire stories?

“Not haunted, infested. It was a demon that shoved the broad to her death. But no one in this goddamn casino believes me, and they very well should! They’re practically speaking to a mayor.” He seemed believable, but anything that came out of those soft lips was definitely persuading. 

“A mayor, huh? You that Goldsworth everyone’s been talking about?” His tone was dull now, uninterested. How could someone with such a child-like demeanor be holding so many people at gunpoint?

After a moment, his brown eyes narrowed at the detectives bored expression. “Yeah, I am. What’s the fuckin’ hold up? Are you going to write my statement down or are you just as dense as all these other cops?”

“I’m the only one here not getting paid to turn a blind eye to all of your criminal activity, Goldsworth. A woman falls down a flight of stairs at your establishment and you claim its ghosts? What kind of fool do you take me for?” He looked slightly offended but mostly amused.

Ricky looked mad, to say the least. Why would he kill someone that wasn’t a loose end to any of his schemes? He may be a killer, but he knew just as well as anyone that the chicks who worked here where just for show. Nothing more.

“What’s it going to take for you to believe me?” He grumbled, crossing his arms. 

“Real evidence, not just fairy tales from some dramatic and spoiled brat.” Tinsley wasn’t in any mood to put up with his games, and after a short while him and the rest of the police where out of the building, leaving it empty. Or so it seemed. 

The basement of the casino was only accessible by Ricky. He had it guarded and locked at all times, only entering when the place was closed for the night. No one dared entry, because they knew that if they were killed down there, none of their family would see them again. 

The only light was a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the room with a pull of the chain string. The yellow glow shed light on the horrors that lived in the basement. But our suspect was focused on one section of the room only. 

People who know of its whereabouts called it ‘A portal to Hell’. Mostly because Ricky used it to dispose of unneeded evidence against him and his posie. After tossing away something that would never be seen by police eyes, Ricky was visited. 

This was a nightly ordeal. But the specter appeared more often now that he had control over most things. Maybe he was stressed, he didn’t quite know the reason. But it spoke to him nonetheless, and it sounded oddly optimistic. 

“You know, they’ll believe you in time. This is just the start, just like I warned you, it’d be rocky.”

“I know, but they look at me like I’m losing my mind, almost like I’ve lost my authority because I’m not taking credit for who I slaughter.”

“You haven’t lost anything -maybe a few folks here and there- but as soon as you continue, they’ll be apologizing for every doubt they had about you and your rule. You’ll show them all who's the boss sooner rather than later.”

“So...what's next?”

“You want people to believe you? All you have to do is make a few tormented spirits so encounters will become frequent. Simple task, wonderful outcome.”

Ricky sat down on the dirty floor and gazed at a wall flooded with pictures of townspeople. People who obeyed him, people who feared him, and people who didn’t believe him. That was all about to change. All that was needed was a new victim. But that was already chosen for him. He just had to do was sharpen his blade, and he’d be on his way.

—

C.C. Tinsley was woken up by his phone ringing early in the morning. He had too much to drink the night before, so this was like a kick in the gut. Literally. As he picked up the phone it took all of his power not to vomit into the receiver. 

“I didn’t order a wake up call,” He hissed loudly to the person on the other end, not even knowing who the caller was. 

“Get off your ass and check the paper, Tinsley! You’re needed at the corner of Bourbon Street and the main road. I’ll see you there.”   
The police Chief hung up the phone without getting a response. Clearly everyone was hostile this morning, finding a body too battered to be identified was not the best way to spend your morning. 

It would be a long day for the detective, and he knew it.


End file.
